


Overtime, or Technology Is Wonderful

by sallyamongpoison



Series: Da Capo: The Full Score [9]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Plug, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Phone Sex, Porn with Feelings, Unabashed Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cullen has to stay late at work and Dorian intends to make his afternoon a bit more interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overtime, or Technology Is Wonderful

_ [Text: Dorian (5:32PM)]: I’ll be home in an hour and a half or so. Garrett has some errands to run and we’re waiting on a client to call about a recording. _

_ [Text: Cullen (5:34PM)]: Booo. Had plans for u. ;) _

_ [Text: Dorian (5:37PM)]: Are you home already? _

_ [Text: Cullen (5:38PM)]: Been home. No meetings so i left early. Waiting on u now. _

_ [Text: Dorian (5:40PM)]: Sorry love. Home soon. _

Waiting around was difficult. Waiting around when  _ plans _ had been made was even worse. Dorian had been home for hours already, and after doing a bit of work he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to where they could take the rest of the evening. He’d been excited for Cullen to come home, and now that he was delayed Dorian felt more than a little disappointment. It wasn’t long, wasn’t that late, and it wasn’t like they couldn’t spend the  _ rest _ of the evening making good on all those plans. Dorian had wanted to spend that time practically  _worshiping_  his husband.

That said, now his mind turned to something altogether more devious. He could certainly still do that, and very probably would once Cullen came home, but now that he knew his husband would be alone in the studio (hopefully) Dorian rather wanted to tease him until he couldn’t see straight.

So he moved from where he was perched at the table, work computer open in front of him, and padded on bare feet to the bedroom. Dorian slipped out of his clothes, sweats and Cullen’s old shirt that he’d stolen all that time ago, and all but slithered across their bed with the soft sheets and blankets so he was drape across it on his stomach. One hand reached out to rest his phone on the bedside table, so he could get a bit of height and width to his picture, and settled himself so his head was pillowed on his arms with his hips and arse tipped upward where Cullen could see. He waved a hand so the camera snapped, and he took a few more just for option’s sake, then reached out to flick through them to pick the best one.

They were all good, though, and he quickly saved them to his more  _ private _ album before he sent one off to Cullen. Dorian was smirking, one that came from the knowledge that his husband would be sitting at his small desk with his face flushed and ears burning. He’d probably be smiling along with that blush, and Dorian chuckled to himself as he flicked through his phone again.

_ [Text: Dorian (5:47PM)]: Cheeky thing. In a lot of ways. _

_ [Text: Cullen (5:49PM)]: Thought id make ur time a bit more interesting _

Knowing Cullen was still at work, sitting there and probably staring at that picture with the fond expression he always gave Dorian when they lay in bed together, warmed his heart, It also warmed him to know that he was probably sitting there, fond expression on his face, with his pants starting to feel that much tighter and the time that much more pronounced. However long it took for that client to call, Dorian knew, Cullen would be checking the clock every two minutes or so. That was his plan, anyway. It wasn’t Cullen’s fault he had to stay, but Dorian was going to make him want to sprint home and  _ have _ him.

The soft sheets felt good against his skin, and Dorian sighed. Thinking such things made his own blood run hotter, and he rolled onto his side to brush a hand along his inner thigh. He dug his nails in just a bit, just enough to bite like Cullen’s would if it were his hand there instead. Maker help him, he was supposed to be teasing his husband and not  _ himself _ with all this. Still, with his eyes closed and fingers running over his skin, Dorian couldn’t help but stir. He wasn’t hard, not quite yet, but that slightly hazy feeling of desire had started to seep into his mind.

“Maker,” he breathed softly, and scooted up the bed to open the drawer on the side of the bed that was slightly less cluttered. There was a lamp, a clock, a book, and not much else. However, in the cabinet below that rather austere surface was a cabinet full of all manner of fun things. Not that Dorian meant to go snooping through Cullen’s things, but what was in that cabinet wasn’t just  _ his _ . It was  _ theirs _ , and all things that had been known to make them both pant and squirm in the best ways when they were used together and on each other.  

A bit of a reach and some feeling around afforded him his prize, and Dorian closed his hand around it as he all but melted into the mattress. In his hand it was small, black, and looked like a rather comically short pirate’s sword with the curly bits that swept off the base. Still, it was delicious, and had reduced them both to panting on a few occasions when they’d fucked with one of them wearing it. If wearing it was even the right way to say as much. When they  _ used it _ was probably better. It was small and delicate, but hit all the right places after being gently eased inside one of them. A memory of Cullen clawing at the sheets as Dorian had toyed with it, gently pushing and pulling so it pressed against Cullen’s prostate, made him groan softly to himself, and he grabbed up his phone again to snap a picture of the plug in his grip-

_ [Text: Cullen (5:54PM)]: think i could make my wait a bit more interesting too. What do u say? _

There was a wait, which Dorian filled with groping in the other drawer for their bottle of lube so he could put it on the bed beside him. A part of him just wanted to slip it in and wait, wait for his husband to come home, but there was another part of him that wanted to wait until Cullen texted him back. He wanted...Maker, he wanted Cullen to tell him to do it. He wanted Cullen to give his blessing so he’d know the other man was thinking about it too. Cullen knew the feel of it, the delicious and somewhat obscene feeling of being filled without it being fingers or a cock inside him, knew what it felt like when that spark of pleasure lit up along the spine and to the brain as it brushed that part so deep inside.

_ [Text: Dorian (5:57PM)]: Maker _

_ [Text: Dorian (5:58PM)]: Do it. Show me. _

Oh, that was what he wanted. His sweet, wonderful husband with his kind eyes and gentle hands was giving him commands. Via text. It was so unlike anything they did normally, and  _ now _ he was hard. The thought of Cullen leaned over his phone and smirking while still blushing did  _ things _ to his insides that made him feel like he was melting. Gorgeous Cullen with his scarred lips tipped upward in a sexy smirk as he tugged at Dorian’s hair and whispered all manner of filth in his ear as he fucked him. Maker take him, but the man would be the death of him one day.

A quick squirt of lube onto his fingers, and Dorian reached around to slip one, then two inside himself. His weren’t as large as Cullen’s, which was a shame, but he groaned low and wanton all the same. Dorian could imagine his husband over him, warm chest at his back, as he slipped his fingers in and out until Dorian was squirming with need. It was wonderful, though it made Dorian wish Cullen was there already. His own fingers hardly did the trick anymore, even with three pushing in to ready himself for their little toy that had been such a breakthrough for them both. Cullen had been bashful, blushed as he pointed with slightly shaking fingers at that one on the computer screen while they’d been looking, and had nuzzled into Dorian’s hair with soft words that he wanted to try something  _ new _ . 

New. Growth. Moving forward. Having fun. Those were all things that Dorian had never expected to find in marriage, but they still found ways to surprise each other. That Cullen so wanted to play, to make things both sexy  _ and _ a bit of an adventure, pleased Dorian to no end. In many ways, as it happened, though they very often didn’t even need the accoutrements to achieve such things. Still, they were a fun thing to use on occasion. Like now.

The hand not currently occupied, the one that was propping him up a bit on the bed grabbed up his phone, and quickly tapped out a message as he gasped against the bedspread-

_ [Text: Cullen (6:03PM)]: Dont answer. Let it go to voicemail _

With a slightly twitching thumb, Dorian found Cullen’s name in his contacts and clicked the call button. His husband had listened, and it rang a few times before the recorded message picked up:

_ “You’ve reached Cullen Rutherford-Pavus. I’m not available, but please leave your number and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” _

Even just the sound of Cullen’s voice on that message, without much inflection and recorded so clients could leave messages for work or Dorian to say dinner would be late or something, was enough to make him sigh as his fingers slowly slipped out and he grabbed for the plug with his other hand.

\--

His phone pulsed on the desk a few times, vibration rattling against the metal as Cullen watched it. That last message was curious, but Cullen had listened. Dorian rarely said things like that without reason, and he bit at his lip as he watched it practically dance across the surface of his desk until it stopped. Cullen’s fingers were itching. He wanted to answer, wanted to hear Dorian’s voice now that he knew what his husband was up to at home. Even that, knowing that Dorian was in  _ their _ home- the one they shared as  _ husbands _ , made him feel slightly untethered and happy beyond reason. This long later and he still got such pleasure from their title, their shared name, and the fact that Dorian rather loved to tease him so.

The picture had been...well, both of them so far, had been enough to make him want to abandon whatever call was coming so that he could run home and fall into bed with Dorian. Clearly the man had been planning it all day, though all this afforded them a bit of fun that was different to the usual. Maker only knew how hot his blood ran and how he’d just stared at that picture of Dorian across their bed with his hips raised and arse in the air. The man was beautiful, always so beautiful, and knowing he was home and waiting for  _ him _ was like a miracle Cullen had never thought he’d be able to experience in his life.

A soft chime. A voicemail. A voicemail from Dorian. A voicemail that Dorian had said he was sending. 

Cullen grabbed up his phone, fingers immediately went to open his mailbox, and as he quickly typed in the pass-code and pressed the phone to his ear he could feel his heart racing. Whatever this was, whatever Dorian had done, Cullen knew it was going to make the rest of this wait both interminable and so  _ so _ much better.

The message picked up, and where he expected a greeting there was only the sound of panting breath. Dorian. Dorian panting in his ear before the telltale groan of his husband’s pleasure moved into his hearing. Cullen felt his face heat even further, that blush a rather embarrassing shade of crimson now, and he bit at his lower lip for it.

“Maker take me,” were Dorian’s words followed by another groan, “just- ah- Cullen,  _ fuck _ .”

Whatever Dorian was doing, it made Cullen harder for the sound of it by the second. He’d been feeling it since those pictures came through, but now he was practically panting in time with Dorian’s breaths in the message, and he had to shift a little to try to relieve  _ some _ of the pressure that was pressing against his cock.

Another sound, a moan that scaled a couple of octaves, and Cullen was gripping the phone hard enough that he could feel the case creaking in his fingers. Dorian breathing hard puffs of air into the receiver like it was Cullen’s fingers in him, and he could hear the shuffling of the phone again, “Like that, just...just like that,” Dorian’s voice was wavering just a little, and then another low groan, “fuck, it feels so  _ good _ .”

The message cut out after that, and then another chime. A message. Not a voicemail, but a text like they’d been sharing before. This, however, was another picture. It was Dorian’s pert and perfect rear end, hiked up like before and over the bed with one leg raised a bit. However Dorian took it would have taken some skill, but just visible between those perfectly round cheeks was the telltale handle to the plug that had been in his hand moments ago. That...the message, he’d been slipping it inside, and the thought of that alone made Cullen throb all over.

He was hot, desperate a bit now, and he lowered the hand not holding the phone in front of him to press against the front of his pants. The pressure was real and pointed now, and the longer he thought about his husband bucking his hips into the bed and making that plug shift inside made him want to do more than  _ just _ press the heel of his hand against the front of his jeans. He knew what it felt like, how good it felt to have it in and stretching perfectly while brushing the most sensitive part of him. Once upon a time Dorian had made him wear it while he sucked Cullen off, and he thought he might go mad for all the sensations at once. The memory of that made him throb again, and he let out a low groan of his own.

_ [Text: Dorian (6:08PM)]: You’re going to be the death of me, you know that? _

_ [Text: Cullen (6:10PM)]: Not before me amatus :p _

He paused for a moment and just read those messages again, scrolled back up to the pictures and thought about listening to that voicemail again. Maker, Cullen wanted to. He wanted to, but sneaking off to an unused and un-miced booth to get himself off  _ wasn’t _ what he wanted to do. This thing Dorian had started, this teasing that was leaving them both breathless, was too good to put a stop to now.

_ [Text: Dorian (6:13PM)]: Does it feel good? _

_ [Text: Cullen (6:14PM)]: Too good. Want u. Thinking its u instead. _

Fuck, that did things to him. So many things. He cast a glance to the clock. Theoretically he should stay. He should wait to see if this client was going to call, but they had a message bank there. Cullen could get there in the morning and make the appointment. Of anyone, Garrett would understand his reasons for leaving. There was no way he could read that and  _ not _ go home, after all. 

Cullen quickly got the place shut down for the night, and after he grabbed his jacket and locked up he pressed a finger to the  _ call _ button on Dorian’s number. He tucked a pair of earbuds into his ears, the kind with a microphone attached so he could talk, and made his way down the stairs. The phone rang three times, and when Dorian answered he could  _ hear _ the eagerness and desperation in his husband’s voice.

“You’re supposed to be working,” Dorian teased, though the joke was overshadowed by how low and wanting his tone was, “did I distract you well enough?”

“Well enough to make me leave early,” Cullen teased back. Thank the Maker his jeans were thick enough to hide his erection, provided no one was pointedly staring, but the walk was...well,  _ hard _ . That, and Dorian breathing in his ears like that was making it more difficult to not just grab a cab. “I have a feeling that was the point though, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“N-not so much, but I’m not complaining.”

“Are you still in bed?” Cullen asked, and as he turned onto the street he tried to keep his tone conversational lest someone overhear. His voice, however, was that low, graveled pitch that he knew drew Dorian mad.

“Of course,” his husband answered, “like I’d be anywhere else.

“And sending me dirty pictures and voicemails,” Cullen murmured just loud enough for Dorian to hear, “you’re a bad man.”

“I am.”

“So what are you doing now?”

A rustle and another groan, and Cullen’s cock twitched hard in his jeans, “Waiting,” Dorian answered, “and thinking about you  _ wrecking _ me when you get home.”

“Not long now,” Cullen replied, “heading for the train. Another fifteen minutes or so.”

“Too long,” Dorian whined.

Cullen took pleasure in the way his husband’s voice cracked a little. This wasn’t doing anything for how hot his blood was running, but there was something so delightfully  _ lewd _ about the fact that he was practically having phone sex with Dorian in the middle of the afternoon. In public. That, too, made his blood run hotter. “You started this, you know,” he pointed out with a chuckle before he cast a quick glance around. There wasn’t anyone walking close enough to hear him over the street noise, at least. “Is it still inside you?” he asked, voice pitched low again.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Dorian answered, “Maker, it’s maddening.”

“Good,” he told him, “that’s what you get.”

“You’re cruel.”

Cullen turned a corner, and grinned when he saw the train station entrance. It wouldn’t be long now, so long as the trains were on time. “Touch yourself,” he murmured, “but slowly. No coming until I get home.”

He could hear Dorian whine again, then more rusting and a whimper as skin slid across blankets. Dorian was shifting, trying to get comfortable, and then a sigh, “that’s too long to wait, and you know it.”

“It’s not my fault you started this without me,” Cullen teased, “now come on. I want to hear you.”

More rustling, then a sigh that sounded like it came from deep in Dorian’s throat, “I want your hands on me.”

“Soon, love.”

“Not soon enough. Maker, my nails aren’t as sharp as yours are when you scratch.”

Cullen grinned to himself. He was still blushing, could feel the heat in his cheeks and at the top of his ears, but he was still grinning. To the people around him maybe he was just...talking. None of them knew. No one knew that Dorian was home in their bed, raking his nails along inches of perfect bronze skin and muttering and whining into Cullen’s ears. “Where’s it best?” he asked softly as he made his way down the stairs and pulled his wallet from his pocket to swipe his card at the turnstile.

Dorian was muttering to himself, or possibly to Cullen, though all he could make out was soft sighs and occasionally Cullen’s and the Maker’s name. “My thighs,” he answered finally, then a gasp, "and my nipples. _Fuck_ , I wish it was your mouth instead.”

The turnstile beeped, and Cullen pushed at it so he could get to his platform. Two stops then he’d be close to home. It wouldn’t take long, and neither would Dorian at this rate. “Put me on speaker,” Cullen half growled, “use both hands.”

“Shit,” Dorian breathed, then another rustle before the sound quality changed and he could hear the bed creaking alongside his husband’s moans and sighs, “Ah! I can’t...every time I move it’s like fucking stars in my eyes.”

“Then keep moving,” Cullen instructed, which led to a long whine, “I’m almost there. Waiting on the platform now.”

“You should have taken a cab, you bastard.”

“Language,” Cullen tutted, “now touch yourself for real. Gentle, though.”

Another bit of low muttering, and Cullen could have sworn that he heard Dorian cursing him a bit. It was amusing, though not nearly as amusing as it was hot think about Dorian lying on the bed with the phone next to his head and his hands roaming over that dark skin. Cullen could picture him, panting and sweating with his hands wrapped around his cock as the plug shifted inside him and made him jump every time it brushed his prostate. He shifted his weight, tried  _ not _ to look like he was doing what he was doing as he stood a ways off from the crowd on the platform, and pressed a hand against one earbud so he could hear Dorian over the noise of the station.

“Cullen,” Dorian whined, “s’not fair.”

“Yes it is,” he answered, “tell me where your hands are.”

“Stroking,” his husband replied, “your hands are better, though.”

“Gently?”

“Yes, gently,” Dorian breathed, “I’m going to be insane when you get home, you know.”

“That was the plan.”

The train was thankfully on time, and the car he got on wasn’t terribly crowded. He stood at the back, by the doors, and turned away from the few people sitting in the seats. Cullen was painfully hard now, and he could already feel where his boxers were a bit wet for how they rubbed against him. Maker help him, but he’d be lucky to get through the door after listening to another few minutes of Dorian like this. He’d be insane himself. 

The trip was short, though, and Cullen had the sounds of rustling sheets and Dorian’s not at all quiet moaning, now. Cullen could hear the sound of skin on skin, the sound of the other man’s hands on himself, and it was like  _ he _ was seeing stars. As the train started to pull into the station, though, a rather wicked grin touched Cullen’s face. “Still with me?” he asked.

“You know I am,” Dorian answered.

“Good,” Cullen replied, and as the noise of the train filled the car he lifted the little piece of plastic that held the microphone on his headphones up to his lips, “get up. I want you on all fours.”

“Cruel.”

“Do it.”

Rustling again, and another moan that scaled those octaves again as Dorian repositioned himself. The plug inside his husband would be settled in the most delicious kind of way now, and the mental image of the long planes of Dorian’s body splayed out on the bed like that was enough to make Cullen break out into even more of a sweat. He was five minutes out, now, and would probably bust into a jog the minute he got to the street. Provided, of course, that he could. He’d been hard for so long now that he could hardly stand the brush of fabric against his cock.

“Fuck your hand,” he rasped into the microphone s he swept through the turnstile and made for the stairs, “I want to hear you in the street, Dorian.”

“Listen to you getting all,  _ fuck _ , bossy.”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

There wasn’t an answer to that, and instead only the practically mewling sounds as Dorian touched himself with more strength than he had been. All Cullen saw as he headed for the street and then in the direction of their building was Dorian in their bed and how he was going to just  _ take _ him when he got there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so turned on, though it seemed like he said that every time they were together, and his vision practically tunneled as Dorian’s voice arced and cracked. Maker help him, but his husband was so infinitely beautiful, even when they weren’t in the same room. 

The building was closer now, and Cullen lifted the microphone again, “Dorian?”

“C-Cullen,” he whimpered, “I’m close. I’m so close.  _ Please.” _

“Stop.”

“ _ What?” _

“You heard me. Hands on the bed. Stop.”

Dorian let out a confused kind of sound. Of course Cullen trusted that Dorian would listen, since they  _ always _ listened to each other, but the way the other man’s voice rose and fell before something that may had been a sob of frustration bubbled up in his throat made Cullen pick up his pace so he was  _ actually _ jogging toward their building. This...love and trust, the desire to do this kind of thing for one another, it was something he’d never known before. It was beautiful and perfect and all manner of syrupy things, but the fact of the matter was that Cullen just wanted to be  _ home _ already.

\--

His body was on fire. His blood, his brain, his skin, all of it burned with heat that couldn’t be put out. Dorian was shaking, trembling on the bed where he’d slowed his hips and hand and tangled his fingers in the sheets. Cullen had said to stop so he had, and  _ Maker _ he was so hard that he ached. It had been a while, though not terribly long, since they’d played like this and it was driving Dorian more and more mad by the second. He always seemed to fall headfirst into these things, lose himself when he could in how wonderful and  _ good _ Cullen was to him...until he was being mean and playing dirty. This? The making him stop when he’d been  _ so close _ was playing dirty and Cullen had to know it.

Somehow the fact that he did made Dorian love him more, however. It made him tremble in anticipation as he fought to get control over himself. One last tug, one more thrust into his hands, and he would have come. He knew he would have. It was all too much now: his hands all over himself, the plug still inside him stirring around and brushing his prostate when he least expected it, and Cullen’s voice growling low and gravelly in his ear with instructions. That...that was the best thing. Thinking on it, thinking about how much he wanted to  _ please _ his husband by doing what Cullen had said made him whimper again, and he fought the urge to drop his hips to the bed and rut against the mattress. No, he had to wait. Just a little longer.

“Please tell me you’re close,” he whispered, mouth dry. Dorian was sweating for all his efforts, and the rough chuckle he heard through the phone speaker only made it worse.

“Not as close as you,” Cullen teased.

Dorian groaned. How the man had the mental faculties to make bad jokes was beyond him. His own thoughts were focused solely on how his cock hung hard and aching between his legs and he could pull a thousand memories of Cullen touching him to relieve that pressure. Any thought would do it, the thought of large hands running over him and taking away that ebbing pleasure-pain that he was riding now. Dorian wanted to fall headlong into it, jump with Cullen’s arms around him so he could feel just how _good_ it was, and wanted to come so badly. He needed it. When he’d started this not an hour ago he’d thought it a way to make Cullen be the one to squirm in his work chair. This?

This was better than anything he could have imagined. Giving himself over like that, trusting Cullen like this and letting him enjoy himself too, that was a gift. This gift was just wrapped with paper that cut around the edges, a little pain with that pleasure for the anticipation, and Dorian buried his face in the blankets. He was already wrecked like he’d begged for earlier: sweating, trembling, hair and mustache completely mussed, and he didn’t even care.

Cullen would be home soon, after all.

“Don’t move,” was the murmured instruction amid the street noise, and Dorian whined again.

He cleared his throat, tried to lick his lips, “Where are you?” Dorian asked, then bit at his lips as he waited for the answer. It was getting more difficult to stay in the position that he was, and when he didn’t hear Cullen’s answer he lifted his head and reached for the phone, “Cullen?”

_ Click _

Fuck. Wonderful as all this had been, Dorian had half expected something like this to happen earlier. Coverage wasn’t  _ great _ in their area, and honestly he’d been surprised that they hadn’t cut out sooner. At least Cullen had almost been home, and they hadn’t just been kicking off. That would have ruined the mood, after all. Technology was great, saved them time and allowed this kind of thing to escalate where it might not have beforehand, but leave it to shoddy reception to drop the call at arguably the most inopportune fucking moment.

“Fuck me,” he sighed as he swiped his thumb over the screen. Dorian’s attention was wholly focused there to try to get to the message screen so he could send something to Cullen, and he dropped a bit so he could wrap a hand around himself while he typed. It wasn’t like before, but just that gentle bit of friction was enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. The handle of the plus pressed against the bed, too, and Dorian gasped for how he saw stars again.

It was the most exquisite torture he’d ever felt in his life.

Then, without warning, a hand on his hip and someone taking away his phone. “What-” Dorian began as his heartbeat picked up. Had he left the door unlocked? Just what was going on? But...Cullen. Cullen blushing scarlet from the tops of his ears down his neck, and he gathered Dorian in close as warm lips surrounded by scruffy fuzz raked over his skin.

“I said don’t move,” Cullen growled in his ear.

“I th-thought the call dropped,” Dorian whimpered against that onslaught. His skin was far too sensitive for it, and he squirmed against his husband’s body so that he might get  _ more _ .

Cullen shook his head, then his lips were on Dorian’s and they were groaning together. Dorian swallowed the low sounds that bubbled past Cullen’s lips, and his husband’s scarred mouth drank in the sighs and whimpers Dorian couldn’t keep quiet now. Hands, hands everywhere, and he needed it. Rough, soft, loving, slightly mean, every touch was what Dorian craved and what Cullen needed to give him. They were moving together already like they were perfectly in sync.

“I ought to tease you longer,” Cullen growled into Dorian’s ear, “for starting something like this.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dorian hissed as the other man bit his ear, “and you love it. Look at you.”   
  
“Look at  _ us _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr! @sallyamongpoison


End file.
